The rafting was between Pokhara and Kathmandu, and I limped off the bus at the end of the day in Nepal's bustling capital. I was glad then that I'd chosen not to take an early morning flight to look at Everest and could have a restful, restorative morning. My low-carbon journey means no flights that I can't justify, and, beautiful as they are, the world's highest mountains are not essential to it, so apologies for the absence of amazing Himalayan photos. I'm sure plenty of people have done a better job of snapping them than I could.
Well I'm starting to feel stiff now as our long bus journeys and smelly cities give way temporarily to relaxation (!) and exercise. I've been cycling and rowing, I've practised yoga and succumbed to a full body massage. And I even vowed to tackle my terror of adventure sports - since I'm reasonably confident in boats (though not so much in water) I chose white water rafting over such things as bungee-jumping and paragliding, which just seemed beyond horrific. And so I endured two-and-a-half hours of being thrown around in swirling eddies while our smiley guide kept playing "games" with us like spinning the raft around at top speed with the fore end in the air and then being "accidentally" thrown into the water. I emerged shaking at the end and it took me the rest of the day to recover from the trauma, probably combined with sunstroke. Apparently it was a relatively tame section of river, but somehow I don't think I'll be progressing to the next level of difficulty.